What a day it was…

From the moment I walked into the crowded waiting room nearly a half-hour before court started, I decided I should have just paid the ticket (expired tag).   It was standing room only, and they were already on the second sign-in sheet.   It was hot and loud, and a sampling of every sort of character in the Shoals was present: some of them didn’t smell too good, and more than once, I caught a whiff of someone’s whiskey breath. 

When they finally opened the doors to the courtroom, people poured in like free donuts were being offered, but I assure you, there were no donuts; though perhaps there were a few nuts. Seating was unpadded church pews.  I made myself at home on the back row…much like I do at church.   There was probably enough room for everyone to have a seat, but some chose to stand, leaning against the outside walls.   One individual decided to take up residence on the wall beside me.   I should point out that I don’t like crowds, and I am an admitted germophobe.   The man obviously didn’t want to be there and he kept sighing heavily, and blowing his bad breath right on me. 

A few young men of color wore pants around their knees, so I know what make/model of underwear too many of them were wearing.   A chick with boobs protruding like overstuffed water balloons beneath a white tee had the words “Mrs. Dirty” air brushed in big letters across her bosom.  Some of the men who showed up must have been working in the mud all last night and didn’t have time to change before they came in for court.  One of the ladies, having obviously been to traffic court before, brought her crocheting and kept herself busy.  

There was some really strange chick who made her rounds all over the court room, showing anyone who would look a handful of photos.   She was loud and remained loud even after the court officer told her to keep quiet.  She hugged some unsuspecting stranger, and after 10 minutes of showing the poor woman her photos, never missing a beat, she whipped out an old high school yearbook.   Yes, she really did!

When my name was finally called, it was only for me to get in line.   I then had to stand.  And wait.  And wait and stand.   The man behind me had a crazy story, and the chick in front of me had an even better one, neither felt they shouldn’t pay their tickets.   Me?   I had my own story, and I didn’t want to pay, either.   I thought it was just traffic court (DUI’s and tickets), but it was not.   Apparently theft cases were being tried as well.   Lawyers kept breaking line with their shackled clients, making the wait even longer.

When I finally (after nearly two hours) made it to the bench, the judge said, “Ticket dismissed.  You’re free to go.”  He didn’t even ask me how I pled, not that I minded.   Now, I wonder if Mom’s prayer had something to do with that?

And Now One About Daddy....

Phone call as I’m leaving work:

Dad:   Can you come and help me with my Spanish program?

Me:    I can’t tonight, Daddy, I have an appointment.

Dad:   Oh.  Uhm.   Uh.  

Mom (in the background):  What did she say?

Dad:   She’s going to a party.

And he’s not even hard of hearing

Conservation and Six Words

Lately in the Shoals, we’ve had drought conditions, and we’ve been asked to conserve water.   Yesterday, we got some much needed rain…

When I got off work, I stopped by my parent’s house for a few minutes.   They have three vehicles, two of which are usually under shelter, yesterday all three were out in the driveway.   I didn’t bother to ask why the cars weren’t parked where they usually were….I assumed I they must be cleaning out the carport.  

This morning, I got the rest of the story.

My sister went to visit my parents a few hours before me, and my sweet little mother was outside, while it was still sprinkling, wiping down her car.   Gina asked Mom what she was doing…and as she’s standing there in the sprinkles, she says, “I’m drying my car.”  Gina suggested that she simply pull her car under the carport.   Mom then explained that she was cleaning her car in the rain because we’d been told to conserve water, and she had been unable to wash her car.   

Some just do it better than others…

** Cate over at Show My Face hosts Six Word Saturday,

where we are challenged to use only six words to describe our lives...or something!

(for more Six Word descriptions, visit Cate @ Show My Face!)

In Peppy's Own Words...

You wouldn’t believe how much better I feel!  Why, I feel well enough to bite an ankle or a toe…or a put a hole in a good pair of leather shoes.   (I seem to remember a lot of unforgiveness when I do that, though. tsk tsk )

A couple of weeks ago, I was pretty sick; my persons just wouldn’t leave me alone to die, though.   Late one night, I went outside and crawled under the wheelbarrow.   That’s completely unlike me, so they must have known I wanted my peace, but my Hoary Headed Person got me out and brought me back inside.  (It took him a while to find me, though.  Heheh)   The next morning, my Grumpy Person let me back outside, and I drug myself to the fence, laid down, and prepared to exit this world, but my Grumpy Person made my Hoary Headed Person bring me inside again.   They took me to the jailer (where they cruelly take me when they leave town); only this time, I was put in the jail up front with needles and tubes sticking out of my skinny little legs.  I felt so badly, I didn’t even attempt to bite anyone as they stuck me.  I wasn’t listening very much, but they said something about my being severely de-cry-drated, which means you’re low on water inside.   I never cried, so I don’t know why it’s called that…but I did pee…a whole lot!    My sugar was around 600, and the doctor said that’s why I was drinking like a dog in a desert.   I thought only little girls were made of sugar and spice, but apparently I am, too.   Having that much sugar, you know I am sweet, no matter what those people I bit might say.

After a few days, my Grumpy Person came to get me.  She got even grumpier when the vet called her by name when she was bent over talking to me.   She said something about him recognizing her butt instead of her face…but I don’t know why that matters.  Butts are the way I always recognize…well, never mind.   My Grumpy Person yells at me when I go to sniffing ol’ Lucy outside.

I don’t know why my Grumpy Person has been so grumpy lately.   She keeps saying something about being hot, but really…she’s not that much.   I’ve seen better.   Ol’ Lucy’s kinda cute.   She says she can’t sleep, I hear her talk about it, but she fusses because she had to get up and let “that dog,” as she calls me, outside to do my business.  Now I ask you…if she’s not sleeping like she claims, then why be mad because I want outside?  I can’t win here…she’d put the grump right on my cute little head if I used her floor like I use the grass.     

Since I feel so good these days, I am now back to barking like a mad hound every morning until my Hoary Headed Person takes me for a walk.   I haven’t noticed him attaching my little poop bags to his belt anymore, which makes my Grumpy Person still have fits of giggles when she thinks about it.   That’s about all I have for now.

Nips and Sniffs,

Peppy

Monday Musings...

Dear Old Friend (whom I haven’t seen in years):

Remember when you told me that fast food restaurants saved the crummy food items for the drive thru (yeah, I spelled it “thru”) so that we wouldn’t notice we had the buns that were falling apart, and the cold crappy fries until we were gone?   Remember how I disagreed?    I think Jacks saved such a biscuit for me this morning.

Dear Diet:

Why are you so elusive?    What?   Because of fast food?!   :::oh:::

Dear Fast Food Restaurants:

If I go on a diet, will you survive without me?

Dear Grocery Store:

Is it cheaper to buy groceries than to eat out every day?   I haven’t noticed you being too cheap on those food prices, you know.

Dear Taste Buds:

Can you handle my cooking night after night?   Better question, can Ole Boy?

Thought for the day:   I don’t like wearing Maypop jeans.    You know, the ones that have gotten so tight, they may pop when you sit down…

I'm not just saying it because they're mine, but they sure are sweet

The weekend has been filled with children and Wii…dance contests, baseball and Super Mario.  Friday night, Ole Boy’s grandson, Jayce, had his birthday party.  Saturday, the boys spent the night with me, and today we grilled hamburgers, hotdogs, and shish kabobs for the kids…which by the time it was underway, was a total of 17 people, counting two babies and Ole Boy and me.  (Ole Boy and I are NOT the babies, just in case you wondered.)   It’s a beautiful day…but it’s very hot…so sitting inside eating burgers and ‘dawgs just seemed like the perfect thing to do (poor Ole Boy...he had to stay out in the heat until the grilling was done).   Pictures from Friday’s party (and it was HOT HOT HOT in the park that evening):

Devon and the Birthday Boy, Jayce

My handsome Devon

Ashton...I told him to look pitiful.  lol

Behind him, to the right, is Ole Boy's other grandson, Sebastian Cale,

who has a bit of a black eye after a run in with a McDonald's table.

Ashton...his normal happy self.

Olivia

Samara

Olivia and Devon

Her face is covered in cupcake icing.

Boomer, Les and Samara

This one was taken on Easter (not taken by me).

We went to Lawrenceburg, Tennessee, yesterday morning, to the Amish community.   We can always find good peanut brittle and the best homemade fried pies.   The prices on fresh vegetables are better than any Farmer’s Market you can find, and fresh picked that day, usually!    I’d love to take pictures of them, but of course, they don’t want that.   I did; however, snap a picture of their hay bundles and their onions, which they let grow on top of the soil.   Since I don’t eat or grow onions, I don’t know if top-of-the-soil normal for those stinky things.

Ole Boy snapped this one.

Ropes are for Hanging...

Going through one of my old blogs tonight, I came across this entry...
It's one of my favorites:


When you get to the end of your rope,
Here are the Knots to hang on to:

We are hard-pressed on every side, yet Knot crushed;
We are perplexed, but Knot in despair;
Persecuted, but Knot forsaken;
Struck down, but Knot destroyed
—II Corinthians 4:8-9

(Pictures from Knot & Rope Supply)

::::I am thankful::::
For my sisters.
For people who like me.
For today, the first day of the rest of my life!
For God’s vast patience, countless (and sure) mercies, and boundless grace.
For the protection and blessings of my family, whom I dearly love.
For my sisters who weren’t born my sisters.
For my job…I am truly blessed.
For Freedom.

Tiny Babies and Broken Arms



Ashton was born at 27 weeks, weighing only 2.13 pounds.   As preemies do, he lost a good percentage of his birth weight, and for one day in his life, he weighed a mere 1.15 pounds.   He was born with hemophilia, and as a result of that, he was also born with a bleed in his brain, which God mercifully cleared up.   He was a very sick little boy, and had to be fed through a feeding tube.    He was Huntsville Hospital's NICU (neonatal intensive care unit) for a few months.  



During a visit to the hospital after his release, he suddenly stopped breathing.   One of the techs stood over him for more than an hour manually pumping air into his little body until they were able to find a machine that would fit him. 

That's the small pack of baby wipes, not the regular size.

His little fingers couldn't wrap around LesLee's finger.



He is now a very active and healthy little boy.   Sunday, he decided to climb off the trampoline over the safety net.   Do you know what happens when little boys try to do that?

And because I'm so nice,

here's a little relief from the heat:

 UNA

 More UNA

 I tagged this one some time ago with my silly moniker,
but it's the frozen falls at the Rockpile on the TVA Reservation

 Florida

And here's Peppy.   Leaving.  
He says he's tired of my attitude.
He's even writing a blog about how bad it's been lately.
Should I let him post it?